


No Big Deal

by wretcheddyke



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 13 thinks she's a top, Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, F/F, Groping, Light Dom/sub, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, stuck in an alcove, yaz has other ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wretcheddyke/pseuds/wretcheddyke
Summary: getting handsy in a panelled alcove doesn't usually lead to such personal revelations. but "usual" rarely applies to the doctor
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 115





	No Big Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



Yaz’s back hits hard brick as she slams into the alcove. It’s cool through her clothes and sends a hard jolt through her chest. 

“Here again,” the Doctor murmurs, adrenaline present in her voice. 

“What now?” Ryan asks. His back is to Yaz and she notes how tall he really is up close. His cologne permeates her senses, his jacket mere inches from her face. 

“Shhh. Keep quiet,” the Doctor whispers, “and keep still.” 

“Is that thing gonna be able to sniff us out?” Ryan’s voice brims with fear as he peers through the crack in the alcove. 

“No. Well, probably not. Not sure, really. Probably best to stop talking,” she mutters back, tone surprisingly cheery despite the panic. 

Her back is to the wall next to Yaz, their shoulders are squished together in the small space. Yaz curses Ryan’s presence as images of them dash across her prefrontal cortex: searching hands, nimble fingers, eager teeth. What would it be like to get stuck in here, just the two of them? If the Doctor pushed her up against cool brick licked her neck and—

She gasps when their knuckles graze with a piercing snap and an odd fizzing radiates from the point of contact. She yanks the hand away. 

“Sorry,” Yaz gives an awkward laugh, scratching her hand. “Electric shock - must be this jacket.” 

The Doctor doesn’t reply. She looks right through Yaz, past her face and into her mind or maybe even the white brick wall behind her. Her expression is blank but oddly charged as if maybe she’s angry. Why would she be angry?

Yaz swelters beneath the firm gaze, unaccustomed to being the centre of the Doctor’s attention. A thorn of guilt or shame or embarrassment lodges itself in her side. It forces her to look away and she studies the fabric of Ryan’s jacket. It’s blue and shiny and she wonders what sound it would make if she scratched it. She know’s it’s not possible—surely—that the Doctor could know what she was thinking. Is she so transparent? Could the shade of her blushing cheeks indicate the contents of her depraved thoughts?

A bloodcurdling scream from the room beyond their cave sends a shiver down her spine. A sudden bashing—she’s assuming from that awful creatures’ tail—shakes the ground beneath her feet.

“Stay back!” The Doctor whispers but it’s poor advice. In this tiny alcove, there’s no room for further retreat. Still, the Doctor’s arm snakes around her waist a pulls her tightly in. Ryan leans back, distancing himself from danger, but all it does is force Yaz back until her shoulder digs uncomfortably into the Doctor’s clavicle. Four dreadful knocks—why always four?—and then they’re plunged back into a breathless silence. The only noise is the rhythmic hums and clicks from the air conditioning unit beside them. 

“Is it gone?” Yaz asks, as quiet as possible.

“No. Not gone - just waiting.”

“How long do we stay in here for?” Ryan queries.

“As long as we need. Uquods are impatient creatures, not the sharpest tools in the shed. She’ll have forgotten we were ever here soon enough.”

The Doctor’s breath tickles Yaz’s ear as she converses with Ryan. Yaz is far too distracted by the hand on her hip to engage herself. It lingers there, entirely unnecessarily, cool thumb brushing against her skin. What would it feel like if she slipped it under her shirt? If she pushed up a cup on her bra and pinched her nipple? Could Yaz hold back her scream?

“She?”

Ryan eases back to his original position, giving Yaz a bit of breathing room, but the Doctor doesn’t let go. She keeps her hand firm on her hip, pinning her to her side. Yaz doesn’t dare look back at her - her face is hovering just behind Yaz’s left ear and Yaz is pretty sure she’s smelling her hair. Is that weird? It sends a fresh flood of tingles down her spine.

“Y’could tell by her massive tail.”

When the Doctor’s hand moves backwards, Yaz thinks she’s looking for her back pocket. Maybe she thinks her Com Dot is in there? She did say she’d fix it, after all. But she fumbles along the back of her waistband and then she’s going up, slipping under Yaz’s t-shirt. Her hand is cold on her lower-back, cold palm on warm skin and it makes Yaz’s nipples go hard.

“What do the males have?”

The hand stays still for a very long time. So long, Yaz’s skin eventually warms it. Maybe that’s what she wanted? Maybe she was just cold?

“Feathers. Lot of em’, like a peacock but with way more teeth.”

Yaz’s legs wobble and her heart races when she feels fingertips dipping below the waistband of her jeans. They ferret about, hasty and indiscreet, until they find the thin strip of elastic of her underwear. All at once, the Doctor has her hand inside her underwear, fingers outstretched over a cheek. Yaz is so overwhelmed she has to lean her weight on the Doctor and a hand flies out to her thigh to steady herself.

“That’s proper creepy.”

She looks up at Ryan, tall above her with his back to them both. What if he turns around? What would he see? She can hear the Doctor breathing by her ear, her breaths are coming slower, deeper than usual. Her lips occasionally graze over the shell of Yaz’s ear and each time they do she has to hold back the pathetic sound that wishes to escape her mouth.

The Doctor doesn’t reply this time and that scares Yaz because surely Ryan will spin around, any second now and come face to face with… what? The Doctor groping her? Is that what this is? The thought makes her cunt clench around nothing and she realises how wet she’s gotten. She needs… something. A firm knee, a cunning hand. Something up against her, something to grind down against to relieve this awful pressure that’s mounting. She presses her thighs together, wiggles her hips a bit. Nothing comes close to what she needs.

Her shifting must have been obvious—Yaz decides not to dwell on how embarrassing that is—because the Doctor’s open hand starts pushing into the soft flesh and then her fingers are digging in and she’s grabbing her. She’d grabbing her and she can feel how the Doctor’s grip spreads her beneath her clothes. Imagine if she was naked? What would the Doctor see?

An image flashes across her mind. It’s of a girl with dark hair and rich brown skin bent over the TARDIS console and she’s kissing the back of her thigh. _That’s me,_ Yaz thinks. The Doctor starts slow circular movements, spreading her and grabbing and squeezing and when her little finger presses too close her legs turn to jelly beneath her.

There’s a hand on her ribs to stead her and it makes Yaz realise how heavy her breathing is. Ryan must think she’s terrified. What if he turns to comfort her? Would he? No. He knows her better than that. The fingers at her ribs are running along the bottom of her bra.

Another ghastly thrashing outside sends sparks from some electrical socket or another glittering through the air. Yaz can just see them above Ryan’s head, through the crack in the alcove. And then they’re plunged into darkness and Yaz feels a sudden rise of panic amongst them. Maybe it was her own heart skipping a beat or the Doctor’s hand gripping tightly on her ass. It’s funny, she thinks, the small ways we sense one another’s moods.

“What was that?” Ryan whispers, even quieter than before.

“She must’ve taken out some electrical wiring with her tail.”

“Is that… bad?” Yaz’s voice doesn’t feel like own when she suddenly remembers she has one. It’s scratchy and too loud in her ears.

“Should be fine. Unless it’s unlocked all the secondary security doors. But it probably won’t have. Fans are still going.” Her tone is a bit too nonchalant for Yaz’s liking but she decides not to press - conversation is too high risk. The only things she can see in the pitch black are three tiny green lights on the air-con, their rays being interrupted by the spinning blades of a fan.

Her heart bangs in her chest and Yaz can’t tell if it’s from the monster outside or the Doctor’s hand sliding up in the dark until it cups her left breast.

“Are you okay?” The Doctor whispers in her ear as her thumb presses into her nipple over her bra and then adds: “Both of you?”

“Yeah. Yeah I think so,” Ryan replies and he rustles in the dark like he’s wiping his palms on his knees. It’s too dark for Yaz to see him anymore - she’s oddly comforted by the blanket of darkness.

After a pause, her mind swimming from the feeling of a thumb pressed against her nipple—not moving, just sat there—she nods her head. “I’m good,” she chokes. Was that the right thing to say?

The Doctor takes her cue anyway and the thumb swipes purposefully over the hardened flesh. Her bra is only cotton, she can definitely feel how turned on Yaz is.

Fully accepting this is really happening, Yaz lets her head drop back against the Doctor’s shoulder. It makes her hand position awkward and so, to Yaz’s dismay, she pulls the hand out of her trousers to cup her other breast.

She feels like she’s in a dream in this inky blackness, having to keep quiet with Ryan right in front of her while the Doctor feels her nipples through her clothes. How did this happen? It feels _too_ illusory, like she’s lost track of what’s real and what isn’t. She remembers watching a video once about how to tell if you’re in a dream or not. What was it? Pinch your nose? Look in a mirror? Make active decisions?

The Doctor’s fingers are thoughtless, growing with confidence with every fumble. _Is she trying to make me moan?_ Yaz sighs and the Doctor pinches a little harder.

_Active decision making._

Yaz slides her hand behind her till the back of her hand is up against her ass and then pushes her hips back. It doesn’t take much to find the Doctor’s crotch with her palm. She feels hips jut forward—too uncontrolled to be intentional—and a muffled _ooft_ ghosting over the shell over her ear. _Bingo_.

The fingers on her breast freeze and Yaz smiles smugly over her thudding heart. This is the first sign she’s got the Doctor is just as turned on as she is and she feels a little thrill at balancing the scales. _Definitely not dreaming._

The fingers seem slightly perturbed by the retaliation and simultaneously pluck both of Yaz’s nipples in retribution. Yaz gasps at the sudden flash of pleasurable pain that radiates across her skin. She has to fake a cough to cover up the noise. She flushes when she hears a sigh of laughter in her ear. Some stubborn thorn in her scowls at the chuckle — she refuses to be reprimanded and she especially refuses to be debased. _No, that won’t do._

Defying the smug laugh in her ear, Yaz pushes her back as hard as she can and cringes a little when she hears the Doctor’s body _thunk_ against the wall. She hopes she timed it well enough to have the noise absorbed by the croaking vents. 

“Aye, I think I can see it moving away,” Ryan whispers and there’s a noise like he’s gesticulating an arm.

“Keep an eye out. We should give it a head start.” The Doctor’s voice is deep and raspy and it vibrates through Yaz back where she’s pushed up against her chest. Yaz takes the distraction as an opportunity push her fingers up into the Doctor’s crotch. She can feel how warm she is even through her trousers and the little gasp it elicits sends a shiver down Yaz’s spine.

She presses harder and the Doctor grabs her breasts and gropes them roughly and it pushes her underwire up uncomfortably but she’s far too enthralled with this game to care. She almost hopes it’ll leave a mark, something to remember this moment with because she definitely doesn’t trust her mind to do it for her.

By the way the fabric moves over the Doctor’s crotch, Yaz can tell she’s wet. She wonders if the Doctor can smell herself, if she can smell Yaz. Do aliens have better senses of smell than humans? Does the one outside? She decides it best not to consider that.

One of the Doctor’s hands leave her chest to wrap around her waist and the other hand moves to the abandoned breast. She’s entirely enveloped by her; her hand trapped between their flush bodies, pressing up against her centre.

When she moves her fingers forward, the Doctor suddenly sinks her teeth into her neck. At first Yaz thinks it’s all bravado—an attempt at regaining control—the way the pain flashes across her sensitive skin. But then she hears the smallest of mewls crawling from the Doctor’s throat and she realises she’s stifling a moan. That makes Yaz’s legs shake. When she started this battle, she didn’t think she’d win.

She arches her back so she can start rubbing tight circles around the Doctor’s clit (at least, she thinks that’s her clit. It really is hard to tell in the dark).

The hand around her waist moves to cup her over her jeans - she hasn’t given up entirely just yet. Even through the boiling desire in her gut, she can’t help smiling at their back and forth, silently fighting for the upper hand while Ryan stands just a few inches away completely (she hopes) unaware.

The Doctor licks across the bite mark on her neck and that makes Yaz squirm (will that be visible when they get out of here?) and then she moves up to take her earlobe into her mouth. The fingers at her breast continue to grab at her, massaging her breast and pinching her nipple between finger and thumb. 

Yaz has to bite her lip to stifle a moan when three fingers press flat against her and it makes her wonder what biting the Doctor’s lip would feel like. Would she let her? Would she pull away and tell her to behave? Would she mewl and beg?

Despite the Doctor’s admirable attempts, Yaz is in a better position and her head start has the Doctor’s rhythm faltering. The breathing against Yaz’s ear is getting very heavy and she’s nervous Ryan might be able to hear it.

All coherent thoughts about this disappear however when she feels a shifting behind her. The Doctor is rutting against her hand, grinding her hips forward against the trapped fingers and up against Yaz’s backside. Her hand cupping Yaz is no longer for her pleasure but a vice-grip on a life-raft, keeping Yaz flush against her. It makes it difficult for Yaz to have any control over her fingers at all so she slams her hips back again, an obvious command: _stop it_.

The Doctor listens. Her hips still against the wall and Yaz picks up a merciless pace, pressing firm, quick circles over the seam of her trousers. The Doctor is panting through her nose in Yaz’s ear. Yaz peels the hand off her crotch and, with the confidence the darkness provides, guides it to her mouth.

The breaths in her ear stagger when her tongue curls around a digit (she’s assuming her index but she’s not sure). She wants to moan against it, wants to send vibrations right down the bone but any peep would surely alert Ryan to what they’re doing in the dark. She sucks instead, taking the finger into her mouth, it tastes like skin and something else faintly metallic she can’t place. _I wonder if she’s imagining me sucking her cock like this?_ She decides to give her an even vivider sensation, one much more pressing, by pulling a second finger into her mouth and sliding her tongue between the digits, right over the sensitive skin where finger becomes palm. An obvious promise for whenever they leave here.

She picks up her pace between the Doctor legs even further and there’s spit on her chin and her lips are sore (how is she going to hide that from Ryan?). She just starting to feel a cramp in her hand when the Doctor suddenly lurches forward. She skins her teeth into Yaz’s neck again and her hips roll wildly.

Yaz winces at the pain when her teeth don’t let up and she bites down on the digits in her mouth as a warning. A fingertip digs into her tongue in protest for a moment but it works and the Doctor releases her bite. The fingers fall from her mouth and Yaz cringes a the little wet sound they make. There’s a strained noise in her ear of breath escaping a closed mouth and then suddenly she’s still.

Yaz is floating on a cloud. The hand on her breast falls lazily to her belly. Did she just make the Doctor come? She swallows thickly in the dark. Her hands are shaky and she wants to scream. She wants to laugh, a proper belly laugh and she wants to fuck herself. She wants, most of all, to turn around and kiss the Doctor. _I just made the Doctor come._

She leans back to listen to the Doctor’s breathing evening out and wipes the spit from around her face. She feels hot and cold all at once. Feels like she just survived a car crash by the skin of her teeth or won the lottery or passed an exam she didn’t study for.

The Doctor’s hands are on her belly and her heart skips a beat when she feels a gentle kiss being pushed into the back of her neck. Before she can marvel at their fluent silent communication (a memory of the Doctor tell her they speak the same language crosses her mind for a moment but then it’s gone) there’s a humming about them and then the lights are flickering back on.

It sends a fright right through Yaz and she jumps away from the Doctor to check her bra is where it should be and her mouth is dry.

“Does that mean we can go?” Ryan asks and spins, finally, to look at them. Yaz looks up at him as earnestly as possible, not daring to turn around herself just yet.

The Doctor clears her throat and stands from the wall. “Let’s take a look,” she says as she peers around Yaz through the small opening. “Coast looks clear,” she murmurs and then: “Nice work fam!”

The return to her usual volume makes Yaz jump but she soon recovers when the panel is pushed open and they’re back in the main room of this… hospital? They’re still not quite sure where they are. Only that it’s overrun with prehistoric aliens and glittering portals.

“We’ll go find Graham then, shall we? Bet he’s had a right mare on his own.”

Her voice is pretty much back to its usual self but Yaz is astounded when she sees the blush covering the Doctor’s cheeks. Her face is red and her eyes are still gooey and Yaz watches her fumble when she pulls out her sonic with shaky hands.

“C’mon, I saw him go this way before you shoved us all in there,” Ryan points to a corridor to their right and makes his way.

Yaz doesn’t miss the Doctor pulling the fabric away from her thigh before she starts walking and bites back a smile. Her body thrums with energy as she follows Ryan and when she makes eye contact with the Doctor, a cock of her eyebrow sends a fresh wave of red over the Timelord’s face. _She’s embarrassed,_ Yaz thinks. And that makes her legs wobbly beneath her.

* * *

Temporal anomalies officially closed and the prehistoric aliens returned to their own time period, Yaz follows her friends back into the TARDIS. The only remanence of the day is the slight ache in her feet and the throb between her legs that never left.

The boys had only caught on to anything being awry when Graham had pointed out the obvious bite marks on Yaz’s neck and she had to pretend she had no clue where they’d come from. The Doctor even scanned it with her sonic and forged a baffled expression at the results before blustering past.

Soft amber lights are a welcome relief as the TARDIS wheezes and they’re swept away to safety once again. It’s not long until they’re all in their respective bedrooms, Yaz perched on her bed with a book in her lap she can’t read a single word of. She surprised she didn’t masturbate right away but a part of her is loathed to let this tension go - she wants to keep in simmering for as long as possible.

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

Her bedroom door opens with a pitiful squeak. The Doctor hangs about in the door frame for a moment, picking the paintwork on the wood.

“Coming in or have you just come to gawp?” Yaz asks over her book. She can’t help smiling at the flustered look the Doctor gives.

“Oh—Yeah, just making sure.”

Yaz cocks an eyebrow. “Didn’t do much of that earlier today, did you?” Yaz had deducted pretty quickly the electric shock was more of an artron shock and the Doctor had received a custom made image of the two of them—Yaz crushed against the wall with the Doctor’s fingers in her pants—straight from Yaz’s subconscious.

“What do you mean?” The Doctor asks, genuinely confused as she crawls partway up the bed to lie on her belly. The image Yaz’d received in return of her bent over the console still rings about her skull - she’d never considered herself in that light before.

“You get that handsy with all your female companions?” She can’t resist teasing the Doctor now she’s learn how reactive she is.

“No! I—You wanted me to!”

Yaz chuckles at her indignant face. “Thought you’d have your way with me as well, didn’t you?”

The Doctor frowns for a moment, trying to articulate a response and finally lands on a muttered and grumpy “No.”

“What happened, Doctor? Not used to people giving back just as hard?” She asks. When the Doctor can only frown at the sheets, Yaz chuckles and goes back to reading her book.

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

The Doctor clearly rolls her eyes in Yaz’s periphery and picks and the bedsheets next to Yaz’s bare knee before eventually giving in with a huff. “I didn’t know it were gonna feel like that,” she confesses in a whisper.

Yaz looks up from her page but the Doctor’s eyes are set firm on her knee, refusing to make eye contact. “That was your first orgasm in this body?” Yaz asks and suddenly feels a little guilty for the teasing.

“Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. I have first orgasms all the time,” she waves off Yaz’s concern but there’s still blush about her face.

“Alright. No big deal then,” she mimics and returns to her book. _No big deal?_ She can feel the Doctor’s eyes boring into her skull but she’ll be damned if she breaks. _No big deal. I’ll show her no big deal._

She pretends she doesn’t notice when she feels the Doctor’s scoot over to rest her chin on her knee. Her eyes are set dead firm on Yaz and she takes a breath like she’s about to say something. Yaz licks her lips and thinks about flipping a page for emphasis but she doesn’t actually want to loose her place.

“Yaz?” She asks impatiently.

Yaz ignores it when blunt teeth bite down lightly on her knee. She ignores the hand on the bare skin of her inner thigh too. _No big deal_. She especially ignores it when the hand slips behind her knee and she gets pulled down the bed till she’s laying flat.

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

“Yaz?” She asks again. Her mouth is at Yaz’s hip bone, chin resting over her pyjama shorts and Yaz’s heart beats very fast in her chest. Still, she moves the book till it hangs above her head and continues to read.

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

Yaz can feel the determined look on her face as she tries to figure out her best move. Yaz tries hard to keep her face as neutral as possible but she’s not entirely sure it works - especially when she feels teeth sinking into her hip.

There’s a hand under her shirt next, skimming across the skin and Yaz doesn’t let on how good it feels. Finally, skin on skin contact. The cool air of the room feels nice as her shirt’s pushed up to reveal a slip of skin.

She doesn’t react to the little gasp when the Doctor sees her defined abs. Doesn’t smirk with smug confidence. Doesn’t even sigh when she feels the Doctor plant a kiss just below her belly button. No, she juts her chin and frowns and focuses on her book.

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

“Yaz, please?”

Yaz almost snorts at how petulant she sounds. Whiney and indignant and rude.

“Please, what? I’m not stopping you,” she says with a surprisingly straight face.

The Doctor eyes her warily for a moment, trying to gauge her response before she swings a leg over Yaz’s leg and rolls on top of her. The heavy, warm weight of her makes her increasing difficult to ignore but Yaz won’t give in just yet. Not even when she dips her tongue into Yaz’s belly button and squeezes at the flesh around her hips.

She looks nervous when she starts fiddling the hem on Yaz’s shirt like she’s unsure whether she’s allow to lift it or not.

“What are you doing?” Yaz asks with a stern voice and sends the Doctor’s eyes snapping up to her face. She looks so small with her face hovering above Yaz’s belly.

“W-I just wanna look,” she blurts and Yaz really can’t hold back her chuckle this time.

“You just wanna look?” She laughs.

“Yeah, I won’t even touch them, I promise,” she insists, eyebrows pinched in earnest even through her embarrassment.

Yaz takes a breath through her nose and tries to forget how unbelievably cute she looks like this, all desperate and bargaining. It seems like the more Yaz ignores her the needier she gets. She shrugs her shoulders and looks back to her book. “Makes no difference to me, babe. No big deal.”

She curses herself for letting her breath catch in her throat when the Doctor tentatively pushes her top up. She moves her elbow out a little so the fabric isn’t bunched up around her armpits but it’s the only sign she even notices what the Doctor’s doing. She feels a bit ridiculous with the Doctor laying on top of her leg and her tits out just… reading her book.

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

The Doctor keeps her promise for approximately thirty seconds before there’re hands snaking up her sides. They rest on her ribs for a moment, pushing up under her breasts. Yaz’s eyes snap shut for a moment when the Doctor ghosts her thumbs over her nipples. They harden almost instantly and she can feel how chuffed the Doctor is about that when she smiles into her belly. 

_…a certain sense of guilt as the two of us watched from our window…_

She starts slowly—gently palming her breasts before flicking her nipples with her thumbs—almost as if she’s trying not to distract Yaz too much from her reading. There’s a tiny moan when the Doctor plucks her nipples and Yaz worries for a moment it was her until she looks down to see the Doctor’s face cracked right down the middle with pleasure. She pushing her cunt into the top of Yaz’s kneecap and that shouldn’t make her as wet as it does.

She has to shift her book when the Doctor crawls up a bit licks across Yaz’s nipple, her hips picking up more of a rhythm against her thigh. She moans again—a sort of pitiful huff—louder this time and Yaz laughs.

“Look at you, you’re like a puppy who’s just realised he’s got a dick.”

The Doctor pulls back, face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and lust, to give her an indignant stare but her hips don’t stop rocking. Yaz isn’t sure she could stop if she tried. Pleasure swims about her eyes and Yaz has to swallow dryly to keep her composure.

“I thought this was you showing me what you’re made of. Y’gonna come in your trousers again?”

“No,” the Doctor stubbornly denies at the same time her thighs clamp around Yaz’s leg. _Interesting_ , Yaz notes. Teasing clearly works better than she’d expected.

She stops grinding and Yaz is almost disappointed - it would’ve been nice to see her get off on her leg while she looked at her tits. Instead, she slides off Yaz and her fingers go to her pyjama shorts. She only hesitates for a moment before sliding them down her legs.

_…a certain sense of…_

Yaz gasps when she feels cool fingers gliding through her labia. God, she’s wet. She didn’t even realise how wet she was until she _hears_ it on the Doctor’s fingers.

“Fuck, Yaz. You feel so good,” the Doctor breathes into her belly.

She shuts her eyes and suppresses a moan when the Doctor pushes inside her. She feels awfully exposed with her shirt up under her armpits and her shorts around her ankles but she’s far too consumed by the Doctor to care. The fingers inside her twist. Holding back signs she feels anything at all makes the sensations all the more intense. She wants to groan, she wants to roll her hips, she wants to tell the Doctor to fuck her properly.

_…the two of us watched from our window…_

The words are meaningless now - not even words, just squiggly black lines on paper. Has the letter ‘e’ always looked like that?

The Doctor starts kissing frantically up her belly toward her chest and her fingers begin pumping inside her at an uneven pace.

“God, Yaz—It’s so _much_ ,” she sighs into the sweaty skin between Yaz’s breasts and Yaz realises it’s so erratic because of the way she’s grinding her cunt against Yaz’s knee. She thinks about teasing her again but the way her own cunt clenches around the Doctor’s fingers when she realises what she’s doing makes her feel like a hypocrite.

If it was anyone else she’d probably find it repulsively pathetic, the way she ruts against her out of pure desperation. But it’s The Doctor. One of the most powerful forces in the universe, humping Yaz’s leg like a dog.

Yaz lets her book drop to the bed, page unmarked, to watch the sight unfold. She’d made the Doctor come in that tiny alcove and unlocked a whole new side to her brain and now here she is, at it’s mercy entirely. The least she could do is let her finish.

“Fuck,” the Doctor whimpers as she gets closer and closer and Yaz lets her fingers sink into blonde hair.

She realises how backwards it is that she’s pretty much entirely naked and the Doctor is fully dressed with her fingers inside her, yet the Doctor is the one moments from her undoing. She scratches at her scalp above the nape of her neck as the Doctor’s head rests heavily on her chest.

“Come on, you can do it,” she encourages and the Doctor groans. Her hips rut frantically. She looks so unfettered, the more she ruts the more Yaz’s body gets jolted below her. “C’mon, puppy,” she says and the Doctor tumbles.

She lets out a pained sigh that ghosts over Yaz’s skin and her hips falter and she freezes for a moment. Her breath catches and she lets out a long moan and she _shudders_ on top of Yaz. Her hips twitch as the final sparks of electricity leave her and Yaz scratches her scalp.

“Good girl,” she whispers and the Doctor mewls but she’s still - a deadweight above Yaz. Yaz’s heart beats so hard she can see it moving the Doctor’s head.

They lay like that for a while—the Doctor breathing deeply, wet fingers resting on the sheets by Yaz’s hip—so long that Yaz thinks she might’ve fallen asleep. When she looks down, however, the Doctor’s eyes are open.

“You okay?” She asks and the Doctor nods against her belly. “You should take you pants off.” 

The Doctor turns to look at her then, arms slinking under Yaz’s shoulder blades, clearly trying not to be distracted by the tits in her face.

“You already came in them twice, I’m sure they’re messy,” Yaz pushes disturbed hair out her face and tucks it behind her ear. She looks so lazy like this, sprawled atop her and Yaz cups her jaw and presses her thumb to her bottom lip. “Are you messy, puppy?”

The Doctor nods. Slow and wide-eyed. Yaz nods too and the Doctor opens her mouth for Yaz’s thumb.

“Messy… and needy… and horny,” she lists and they both sigh when she gets to the last word. She pressed the pad of her thumb down against the Doctor’s tongue and it wiggles in protest before her lips seal around her knuckle and she sucks.

It leaves her mouth with a wet pop and the Doctor asks: “Can I kiss you?”

It makes Yaz’s heart skip a beat how eager and excited she is—like she’s just had a new brilliant idea—and she has so resist the temptation to give her whatever she wants. “And why would I let you do that?”

Her face falls in such a manner as to suggest never in her long, long life has anybody ever her told her no before. “Yaz—”

“You’re far too spoilt, you are.”

“No I’m not,” she argues back with a frown and Yaz can’t help but laugh at her stubbornness.

She bends her knees until they tuck up under the Doctor’s armpits and she gives the hair at the back of her head a tug. It makes her gasp and she looks pretty when her jaw drops.

“Finish what you started,” she says, slow and measured. “Don’t let yourself get distracted again.”

The Doctor nods as best she can with Yaz holding her hair like it’s the scruff of her neck. She gets to work quickly upon release, sinking down Yaz's body and nipping at her skin. She bites into the soft flesh of Yaz’s thigh and sucks hard enough to leave a mark.

“Stop,” Yaz commands with a gruff voice and has to push the Doctor’s face away with a hand on her forehead when she doesn’t immediately release her bite. She barely notices the admonishment and before Yaz can scold her again, she’s licking over the bruise right up to Yaz’s centre. 

Yaz jolts when she licks right through her for the first time and the Doctor groans at the taste of her. Her tongue is warm and wet and fleeting. All there, all at once and then gone again. She flits about like a dying bluebottle, kissing and lapping and never committing to one spot. She’s at her clit, swirling her tongue over it in random swipes and then she’s sinking down to shove her tongue inside. She seem insistent on making the biggest mess possible - moving from her cunt kiss her thighs and spreading her about until her cheeks are covered in Yaz.

“Doctor,” Yaz groans. She tries to sound assertive but it comes out much weaker than she intended. She looks down and grips her hair again, giving it a tug to grab her attention. “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not!” She blurts and Yaz raises her eyebrows at the backtalk. “Sorry,” she adds quickly and that makes Yaz’s cunt tighten.

She pushes the Doctor's face back down, keeping eye contact. Her eyes swim when she tastes Yaz under her tongue and Yaz holds her head still so she doesn’t wander off again. She makes firm, precise licks this time. Taking her time to note Yaz’s sensitive spots, studying her face for the cues and honing in on her clit when Yaz’s hips start to roll.

“Good…” She breathes. “That’s good.”

Eager to please and running off praise, the Doctor anchors herself to Yaz’s hips with strong hands. Her fingers dig in and Yaz hopes she leaves crescent moons across her skin, for posterity’s sake if nothing else. She laves her with the wet silk of her tongue, taking as much as Yaz into her mouth as possible and sucking on her skin. Heat begins to curl within her, causing her muscles to twitch and her skin to break out in goosebumps.

She comes all at once and unexpectedly and the Doctor doesn’t seem to notice, or doesn’t care if she does, because she doesn’t stop or slow down. She moves her hand to push her fingers back inside and Yaz can feel how tight she is around them and it feels so _good_ she thinks she might faint. 

Just as quickly as the first, she’s racked with another orgasm and then another and the Doctor still doesn’t stop, even when her hand is glistening and her chin is wet. Yaz has to physically push her head away when she can’t vocalise her words. She twists herself away and bows her legs together and the Doctor looks up at her with a big lolling smile.

“Fuck,” Yaz breathes with a smile and a shiver. The Doctor wastes no time climbing up her body until she can hang off her side like a koala. 

“Was I good?” She asks as teeth find the flesh of her shoulder (why always biting?) and she looks at her with big wide eyes.

“Yeah, you were good, Doctor,” Yaz chuckles and lets her eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of the Doctor pressed into her side.

The Doctor’s fingers dance across her collar bone and she think about how confident she was earlier and how different she’s being now. How odd it must be to change so dramatically yet still be one person. But then she supposes she might not be a person all. _She’s an alien._ That makes Yaz smile - she never felt at home with humans.

She’s just about sinking off to some deep state of relaxation when she feels the fingers tracing lines on her skin circle her nipple. She’s in the right mind to ignore it—eyes closed and head resting on her soft pillow—but then the Doctor plucks at the now hard flesh. It sends a spell of warmth through her and she cracks open an eye to observe the Doctor. She’s peering over Yaz’s shoulder, watching as her fingers play with her nipple.

“What?” The Doctor asks when she sees Yaz’s amused frown.

“You’re never gonna leave my tits alone again, are you?”

She shrugs and looks back down at her hands, palming her breast and running her thumb over her nipple. “I just like ‘em.”

Yaz laughs at that. “Seems unfair when I’ve not even seen yours.” 

Without a second thought the Doctor is rolling off the bed and undoing her trousers. She’s hopping on one leg and kicking off the blue fabric while simultaneously pulling two t-shirts over her head - Yaz has never seen anything so tumultuous.

She stands naked before Yaz as if she’s just done a magic trick, turning out her palms in a little awkward pose. Yaz isn’t sure whether to applaud or laugh. She takes in the smooth skin and the fair hair and the pink nipples. She looks so gentle and soft and damageable. So utterly _human -_ how can that be? Yaz wants to rake her nails across her.

Finally pulling off the pyjama shirt from around her pecs, Yaz pats her bare leg, not moving from the comfort of the bed. “C’mere,” she commands.

The Doctor grins and jumps on the bed, apparently not caring at all about her bare state which doesn’t surprise Yaz in the slightest. She bounces and lands on Yaz’s stomach and Yaz tries not to let on how much her wet cunt grazing her belly turns her on. She runs her hands up firm thighs and the Doctor looks angelic hovering above her.

“What d’you think?” She asks.

“You’re beautiful,” Yaz says honestly and scratches her fingers into the Doctor’s fair pubic hair. “Bit scruffy… but I wouldn’t expect anything else,” she smiles and gives the hair a tug. “You can kiss me now.”

“Finally,” she mutters just loud enough for Yaz to catch but she’s smiling far too wide for Yaz to call her out.

She tastes like sex and her nose is a lot cooler than Yaz had expected it to be - not so human after all. Blonde hair gone curly with sweat tickles her cheeks and the tongue in her mouth is just as eager as when it was between her legs. She gets lost in it, truly, her mind clearing and a twist in her belly building with every tiny noise that escapes the Doctor’s throat. She doesn’t think about whether she’s any good and she isn’t bothered by the amount of saliva she can feel on her lips. She’s kissing the Doctor. No complaints.

“Lie down,” she says into the Doctor’s mouth when they break.

When she twists to kneel between the Doctor’s knees, she realises it’s the first time she’s moved herself since the Doctor wandered in here.

“Do you want me inside you?” Yaz asks as she spreads two knees.

“Yes, please,” the Doctor nods and she looks wide-eyed with desire. Yaz wasn’t really after a plea—just wanted to check she was okay with penetration—but it makes her mouth go dry when she hears it.

“What was that?” She pushes and yanks the Doctor’s hips down the bed towards her.

‘Please, please, please, Yaz,” she begs and Yaz can’t help the massive smile on her face as she pushes the Doctor’s knees further back and lays between them.

She silences her pleas with a quick kiss on her mouth. “You better not come as quickly as the first two times.”

“I won’t. I promise, I’ll hold on. I swear—”

The Doctor gets cut off by a sucking gasp as Yaz’s fingers glide through her labia. She dripping and her clit is still swollen and Yaz wants to sink into her.

“Spoke too soon?” Yaz smirks at the Doctor’s flushed face. “Breathe, puppy,” she exhales.

The Doctor follows suit, releasing a strained breath, only hers in accompanied by a pitiful whine as the desperation spills out along with it. Yaz rubs slow circles over her clit, watching as the tendons on the Doctor’s neck stand out. She seems insistent on watching Yaz’s every move - head lifting off the pillow so she can get a better look. It only flops down when Yaz sinks her fingers into her entrance.

“Fuck, Yaz,” she cries and Yaz will never tire of making her swear. She’s panting as Yaz fucks into her, eyes tight shut and her eyebrows pinched in pleasure.

Yaz leans forward, propping herself up with her spare hand next to the Doctor face. She’s already getting tighter around Yaz’s fingers as the heel of her hands rubs against her clit. The only sounds that fill the room are wet slaps and tiny breaths. Her slightly open mouth looks irresistible and Yaz dips down to lick into it—

“Oh! Oh—” The Doctor’s eyes snap open and she stops breathing all at once as Yaz feels her clench down rapidly around her fingers. She freezes and her eyes narrow as she struggles to keep them open. “Sorry. Sorry, Yaz. I’m—I didn’t mean t—”

Yaz kisses her, swallowing the breathy apologies as she pulls out. The earnest submission makes her belly ache in a way she’s not entirely sure she likes and she kisses her with reassurance on her tongue.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay.”

“Please don’t stop,” she whispers against her lips. The anguish in her plea is so transparent Yaz feels compelled to look after her somehow and that’s an odd change in their dynamic. It’s confusing and Yaz feels the first edge of something digging into her heart.

She sinks down the Doctor’s body, stopping at each nipple to lick across them and it causes the body below her to jut and writhe. She leaves red scratches across her ribs — not violent, Yaz simply finds her easily markable. This is of great satisfaction when she sees the red and purple petechiae where her teeth scrape.

She’s overcome with her scent when she reaches her cunt and settles herself between her thighs. The Doctor seems to tremor with anticipation when she kisses her thigh and her hands are already balling up the sheets, clearly unsure of what she should be doing with them.

“Remember to breathe,” she says, intentionally ghosting her breath over her clit.

“Okay,” is her quick reply.

She tastes salty and musky and sweaty. Her hips lift off the bed almost immediately, levitating like a magic trick and Yaz has to pin them back down with her forearm. She licks right through her, silky wetness making her mouth water like an animal come to drink at a lagoon. She wonders briefly if this is a desert mirage invented by her distant longing. But she tastes salty and musky and sweaty - this can’t be a dream.

Yaz learns quickly she’s most sensitive on the left and gets increasingly more annoyed when Yaz drifts down and to the right. This comes in the form of petulant groans and shifting hips that makes Yaz chuckle into the warm flesh. Yaz decides she much prefers her bratty.

“There!” The Doctor suddenly calls from above her. “Oh, there, Yaz. Please don’t stop. I’ll die if you stop. Please, Please…”

Yaz wants to pull away and call her spoilt, call her dramatic or rude. She sucks down harder, lavishes the spot with swirls of her tongue and scratches her blunt nails into her hips and watches as the Doctor comes.

She flushes red and she thrashes and turns her face against the pillow as hard as she can. The vein on her neck bulges and, if Yaz’s mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, she’d lick across it to feel the thunderous pulse under her tongue. With a final shudder, her knuckles on the sheet return to their usual colour and her body goes limp.

When she pulls away, the Doctor’s eyes are closed and she looks sedated with pleasure, a smile playing about her lips.

“That were amazin,” she murmurs. “You should do that more often.”

“Should I now?” Yaz asks with a smile.

“Yep. Whenever you want, wherever you want,” she says, wiping her brow before Yaz dips down to kiss her. “You taste different.”

“I taste like you.”

“Oh. That’s what I taste like? Used to be different.”

“I like it,” Yaz confesses with a peck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yaz smiles. She flops down next to the Doctor and they fit together in a perfect arrangement of bare limbs, the Doctor’s arms tight around her waist. As soon as she rests she remembers she was meant to be asleep hours ago and the fatigue suddenly grabs her. “I’m gonna be dead tomorrow,” she mutters.

“We’re in the time vortex. Tomorrow does exist until I say it does. We can stay here as long as y’like.” She kisses over the muscular bit of Yaz’s pec. “I never wanna see you put clothes on again.”

Yaz chuckles at her honest tone and relaxes into the wet kisses on her skin. “I need a shower,” she says as if they words will force her limbs to move.

“Can I watch?”

“No! You perv,” Yaz laughs with a perplexed frown. She scratches the top of her head when the Doctor looks up, bottom lip jutting out in an over emphasised pout. She likes playing this new role far too much. “You can come with me though. You definitely need one too.”

_Messy puppy._

_Messy… and needy… and horny…_

The Doctor flushes when they both have the same memory at the same time. Yaz knows this is going to be a very long shower.

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as something way different but here we are!! please be nice im fully aware of how weird this is kdhdgsgdjd


End file.
